Not How It Looks
by louella
Summary: Dempsey and Makepeace are joined by a colleague from another division to solve a smuggling case. Makepeace is keen to make him feel welcome but Dempsey doesn't like having three people in his partnership.
1. Chapter 1

_It seems the D &M muse hasn't let me go quite yet. This is likely to be three or four chapters long, and I'll try not to keep you waiting too long between updates. Please let me know what you think :)_

 **Chapter 1**

James Dempsey sat at his desk and began the tedious process of filing away the paperwork from the white-collar fraud case. The team had done well to bring in the arrest but now had to label hundreds of evidence bags and cross-reference thousands of files – it was a part of the job no one looked forward to, and he hated it more than most.

Most of the team were busy, tidying up and packing away, but the successful arrest meant that even with all the filing to finish Dempsey was in a good mood and the office was full of the sound of chatter. Dempsey closed the file he'd been working on and looked towards his partner. Harry was bent over a packing crate, matching evidence labels with a list on a clipboard. A small wrinkle appeared at her brow and she squinted at one of the labels, then looked again at the clipboard. She ran her finger down the list, smiling as she found what she was looking for. She made a mark on the list and put the bag in the crate, before sighing and picking up the next one. Dempsey allowed himself to watch a second bag be packed away then threw a joke in Fry's direction before returning to his own task.

When Spikings threw open the squad room doors, the whole team looked up. Spikings cleared his throat meaningfully and Dempsey saw that Spikings was joined by another man, who was smiling as he looked at the faces staring in his direction.

Spikings said, "In contradiction to their usual levels of observation, upstairs have noticed that we've closed the fraud job and seen fit to throw another operation our way." He stroked his moustache and glanced around the room. "It's a smuggling case. And we are lucky enough to be joined on this job by DS Julian Simmons-Robinson here." Spikings gestured in the man's direction, who smiled and nodded at the team. Spikings continued, "Sergeant Simmons-Robinson has inside knowledge on the op. He'll be working with Dempsey and Makepeace and will brief them on how to proceed." Spikings rubbed his hands together for a moment, waiting for his instructions to sink in, then gave a small nod as he walked into his office, leaving Simmons alone in the middle of the room.

Dempsey watched as Harry sent a warm smile in Simmons-Robinson's direction. "Hello," she said. "I'm Harriet Makepeace. Welcome to the team."

Simmons-Robinson smiled gratefully back and wandered over to Harry's desk. She waved towards a chair and he sat down, murmuring a hello. Dempsey thought Simmons-Robinson was maybe a little younger than him, a little taller. He had the healthy, wholesome look of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors, with thick blonde hair and broad shoulders. Dempsey looked from Simmons-Robinson to Harry and pushed away the wave of unease that rose in his stomach.

Dempsey pushed his filing aside and went to join his partner at her desk. He stuck out his hand. "Jim Dempsey. Good to have you on board."

The DS shook Dempsey's hand. "Delighted to be here," he said. "And at work I just tend to go by Simmons. The double barrel's a bit of a mouthful, I know. Or Julian."

"Sure," said Dempsey, smiling. "Simmons it is." He moved around Harry's desk a little so he was standing between her and Simmons.

"So, Julian," said Harry, "what brings you to SI-10?"

Simmons stood and walked around to the other side of Harry's desk, so he could look at both Harry and Dempsey. "I'm usually with SI-7, the international crime boys over in Fenchurch East. Our last job was the murder of a Russian national in Hyde Park – you won't have heard of it, we had to keep it hush-hush. During the course of the investigation we came across a chap called Alexi Fedorov, a player in the international art scene. He wasn't a suspect in our case, had what you might call a bit part, but then his name was flagged in relation to a new job. Which is why I'm here."

Harry smiled up at him. "What's the job?"

"Smuggling precious artworks out of Russia and into the UK. Fedorov was part of the old Russian aristocracy, you know, before the revolution."

"Makepeace here's very familiar with the aristocracy," said Dempsey. Harry shot him an irritated look and smiled back at Simmons, gesturing for him to continue.

"The art smuggling is your field in SI-10," said Simmons, "but because I've had some exposure to the key suspect, the high-ups thought it would be useful if I bowled along with you for a while, give you the benefit of my experience." Simmons gave a self-deprecating laugh and Makepeace's lips curved upwards in response.

"I'm sure we'll all benefit from having you around," said Harry. Dempsey wasn't so sure.

~ o ~

Harry, Simmons and Dempsey began planning their approach to the smuggling operation. Simmons had intelligence that Fedorov's gang were planning to bring the artwork into London via a gallery owner called Phillipe Lefevre, but the team needed more detail.

"We could pose as buyers with an interest in pre-revolutionary Russian art," said Dempsey. "See if Lefevre is willing to give us any hints about what he might have to offer and when."

"Good idea," said Harry. "We could pose as a couple with a large chequebook and a small interest in importation paperwork."

"I'll have to dig out my best suit," said Dempsey.

Harry paused for a beat. "Actually," she said, "I was thinking that Julian and I would be the couple on this occasion."

"Super," said Simmons. "I'm used to undercover work from SI-7 and I've got some background knowledge of the art world from that last job. Should work out well." He smiled at Harry and Dempsey.

"But we always work together," said Dempsey, looking at Harry. "We know how we work."

Harry smiled at Simmons. "He's not always like this," she said to Simmons, as Dempsey bristled alongside. "He normally goes for whatever will get the job done best. And I think you and I would make a more convincing couple for this job."

Harry was smiling up at Simmons but Dempsey's eyes were on Harry. He realised she was waiting for some sort of comment so he swallowed what was bugging him and shrugged, saying, "Fine, sure." He looked from Harry to Simmons and saw how they looked together with their elegant, refined features and properly pronounced vowels, and he could see why Harry thought they made a convincing couple. They looked good together, Dempsey couldn't deny it. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared down at the desk top.

~ o ~

Dempsey sat alone at a table in the corner of the bar, nursing a pint of Heineken. He'd chosen the spot because it gave him a good view of the table Harry and Simmons would be sitting at any minute now. He checked his watch as he heard the door click open. Right on time.

Harry and Simmons entered the bar together, his hand at her back, guiding her towards their table. Dempsey swallowed. He took a sip of his pint and pretended to look at the newspaper lying in front of him. He tuned his hearing into Harry and Simmons' conversation, which seemed to be a friendly disagreement about a book he hadn't read and its adaptation into a movie he hadn't seen. There was a pause in the chat and Dempsey couldn't stop himself from looking up. He looked away again quickly as he saw Simmons tuck a strand of hair behind Harry's ear. They were on a job, he reminded himself. The point was to look like a convincing couple.

Just then the door opened again and a stocky, middle-aged man walked up to the bar. He bought a bottle of red and asked for three glasses. Holding the glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other, he turned around, scanning the tables. He caught sight of Harry and Simmons and walked over to them, offering them the bottle in greeting. Dempsey watched as Harry sent him a charming smile and Simmons gestured towards the spare chair. This part of the operation was critical. Dempsey wasn't used to playing observer.

Dempsey knew that Simmons had managed to set up the meeting with Lefevre through a contact he'd made on the previous job. He heard Simmons introduce himself as Jeremy Smythe and Harry as his wife Georgina. "Nice to meet you," she said with a smile, which was returned in a guarded fashion.

"So," said Lefevre. "What's your interest in my business?"

Dempsey listened as Simmons set out the agreed spiel, hinting at a desire to purchase interesting Eastern European artwork off the books, money no object. Lefevre seemed interested, dropping hints that he may know someone who would be able to fulfil their needs. Dempsey began to relax, until Lefevre turned his eyes more closely onto Harry.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Who, me?" said Harry. Dempsey risked a glance at their table and saw Harry giving Lefevre a dazzling smile. Unfortunately Lefevre didn't appear to be in the mood to be dazzled.

"Yes, you. At a party, I think, down in Kent. Only your name doesn't seem familiar."

Dempsey tensed. There was always a danger of being recognised when working under cover but if Harry's cover was blown now the whole operation would be in jeopardy.

Harry crinkled her nose and gave a small shake of her head. "I don't know what you mean," she said, smiling, but Lefevre didn't seem convinced.

"No," he said. "I feel sure I've seen you before, but I don't remember the name Georgina Smythe."

Dempsey watched, worried, as Harry looked unusually lost for words. But then Simmons took hold of her hand and gently kissed the back, while looking tenderly into Harry's eyes. "Darling," he said, "it's probably to do with your maiden name." He turned to Lefevre and said, "We haven't been hitched awfully long, to be honest with you. Before that she was a Macintyre. Georgie Macintyre. Does that ring a bell?"

Lefevre looked again at Harry. "Maybe," he said.

Harry sent Simmons a look of adoration before turning back to Lefevre. "He's so clever," she told him, putting a hand on Simmons' knee. "Now," she said. "Let's get down to business. I'm sure we can make it worth your while."

Dempsey continued his covert observation of the three of them. Harry and Simmons appeared to have got around Lefevre's reservations and were charming him into agreeing to connect them to the international art supplier. Dempsey looked away as he saw Harry scooting her chair closer to Simmons', her hand seemingly glued to his thigh and her whole body now resting against his side. Jesus, thought Dempsey, he knew they were playing at being newlyweds but could they not keep their hands off each other for a few minutes? He didn't want to examine too closely why he found the sight of Harry pressed up against Simmons quite so uncomfortable. Still, he couldn't deny he was relieved as he heard them agree the final details of the meeting with the supplier and Lefevre took his leave.

After a couple of minutes, Simmons stood up and walked around to Harry, pulling out her chair as she got to her feet. He helped her on with her coat and then gestured for her to walk with him to the door. When they reached the door he held it open for her, Dempsey overhearing him murmur, "After you." Dempsey watched through the window as Simmons and Harry wandered off down the street, Simmons' arm firmly around Harry's waist, Harry chatting away happily near his ear.

Dempsey didn't feel like rushing back to the office. He slowly finished his pint and made a half-hearted stab at the crossword before admitting that he'd better head back. He was pleased that the meeting with Lefevre had been successful and usually he'd be the first to celebrate, but the image of Simmons' hands on Harry was stuck in his head and it seriously dampened his mood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Dempsey stood with his hand on the squad room door. Squaring his shoulders, he pushed open the door and walked through. Glancing around he saw Harry sitting at her desk, alone.

He sauntered over and rested a hip on the edge of her desk. "How you doing, partner?"

Harry turned her head towards him and looked at him coolly. "What took you so long? We missed you."

"Sure you did." Dempsey took out a cigar and looked around for a lighter. He half-hoped Harry would offer him a light but she remained still in her chair and eventually he found a box of matches in a pocket. He lit the cigar then waved the match to put it out, squinting at Harry through the smoke. He caught a glimpse of an unusual expression on her face, almost hurt-looking, before her features settled back.

"We wanted to debrief you."

"Someone wants to do some debriefing," Dempsey muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Where is the Sundance Kid anyway?"

Harry scowled, but at the sound of the door she turned and Dempsey watched her face light up as Simmons walked through. "Dempsey, great, you're back!" Simmons said, pulling over a chair and settling himself down alongside Harry. He sent a warm smile in Harry's direction then turned towards Dempsey. "Went well earlier, we think. Makepeace and I have been planning what to do next. Love to pick your brains."

Dempsey tensed his jaw for a moment, then took a deep breath. He was about to launch into his idea for the next phase of the operation when Spikings strode through the doors. "Dempsey!" he called. "Get yourself over to SI-4. They're complaining about your evidence in that building society blag. Sort it out before I have to do it for you, there's a good chap."

Dempsey pointed towards Harry and Simmons and said, "I just gotta – "

"Now, Dempsey," said Spikings, in a voice that brooked no dissent, so Dempsey lifted himself off Harry's desk, shrugged on his jacket and headed out. As he was leaving he saw Simmons drag his chair a bit closer to Harry's, leaning across her to point to something on her desk.

~ o ~

It took Dempsey nearly an hour to unravel SI-4's snarl-up with the building society evidence and by the end of it his temper was frayed. He was happy to escape back to his own team but as he walked along the corridor towards the SI-10 squad room he bumped into Chas, who gave him an uncomfortable look as he pushed through the squad room doors.

His eyes automatically went to Harry's desk. He opened his mouth in greeting but closed it again when he saw the way she was leaning towards Simmons, her chin resting on one hand, her other hand resting on his arm. She was laughing about something and he was smiling and raising his eyebrows in reply. Dempsey went to sit at his own desk, frowning to himself.

He tried not to overhear their conversation but the squad room was small and Harry and Simmons were in high spirits. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry's hand move from Simmons' thigh to her throat, where she toyed with a sapphire pendant she wore on a silver chain.

"That is a beautiful necklace, Sergeant Makepeace," said Simmons. "The stone matches your eyes."

"Why thank you, Sergeant Simmons-Robinson," Harry replied, a playful lilt to her voice that Dempsey wasn't familiar with. "And I'm rather a fan of your cufflinks," she said, reaching over to touch near his wrist. "Although if these rubies ever match your eyes I think I'll be calling the doctor!"

Simmons laughed and Dempsey slid his drawer closed with more force than strictly necessary. Simmons said to Harry, "I think we're about done for the day. Would you care to join me for a drink? There's a fabulous new cocktail bar just off the Strand, if you fancy it?"

Dempsey was still looking for something on his desk so didn't see Harry send a questioning glance his way. By the time he could bring himself to look up, he saw Simmons holding the door open for Harry then following her through. He wiped a hand across his face and let his shoulders slump. He caught the eye of Fry, who was staring at him from across the room. "What you looking at?" he snapped, then pulled on his jacket, picked up his car keys and drove himself home.

~ o ~

Next morning, Harry was out of the squad room giving evidence in court and Simmons was back in SI-7 briefing his own guv. Dempsey told himself to enjoy the peace and quiet and set to work finishing the filing from the fraud case. He took a break at lunch time, wandering around near the river with his hotdog. He thought about Harry's sapphire necklace and how much he admired the way it shone at her throat. He'd noticed that she often wore it when she went to meet her father. He'd also noticed that her mother was wearing the same necklace in a photo that was kept in a silver frame at Winfield Hall, so he figured the necklace must be pretty special to Harry. But he'd never talked to Harry about her necklace or how much he thought it suited her. He'd never asked her whether wearing the necklace made her feel closer to her mother. He hadn't because – Well, he just hadn't. He bunched up the hotdog wrapper and threw it in a dustbin.

When he arrived back at the squad room he found Simmons and Harry back as well and talking together. "Dempsey," called Harry. "Progress."

Dempsey dumped his jacket on his desk and went over to join them. Simmons said, "I got a call earlier from Lefevre, setting up the meeting with Alexi Fedorov. It's on. They'll pick us up on Thursday night and take us to the warehouse, show us the goods and take our cash."

"Doesn't leave us a lot of time," said Dempsey. "You and Harry going to carry on being Mr and Mrs Smyth?"

Harry nodded. "But we'll need you as well. People like the Smyths wouldn't travel without some sort of backup. You can be our bodyguard."

Dempsey ran his fingers through his hair. "It'd be helpful if we knew where they were planning to hand over the goods," he said. "We could recce the place and make sure there's uniform there for the take-down." He tapped his fingers against the desktop for a moment, thinking.

Harry turned her head towards Dempsey and sent him a questioning look. "Lefevre kept the details of the meet pretty close to his chest," she said.

After a pause, Dempsey said, "Got a hunch." He glanced at Harry, knowing that usually this was something they'd chase down together, but Simmons was pulling out a sheaf of paper that he said was background briefing on Fedorov. Dempsey ignored her slightly pleading look and headed out on his own.

It took Dempsey much longer than he'd expected to track down his snout, but eventually he found him in a bar in Bethnall Green. It cost him a couple of twenties and a double scotch but his snout was able to give him details on the location of the Russian art warehouse. It was late, but Dempsey drove straight to Harry's to give her the head's up.

He pulled up in front of Harry's place and smiled when he saw the downstairs lights were still on. He bounced up the stairs and banged on the front door then pressed the doorbell as well. It was only a moment before Harry opened the door, her face widening into a bright, lopsided smile at the sight of him.

"Dempsey!" she said happily. She reached out and dragged him by his lapel into the hallway.

"Whao, Harry!" said Dempsey, smiling. He saw that she held a large wineglass loosely between her fingers and that it was nearly empty. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were soft. Her hair looked less together than normal, slightly mussy, and he liked it. He smiled at her, nodded at the glass. "Can I get one of whatever you're having?"

"Yes, yes, yes," said Harry, taking Dempsey's hand and pulling him into the kitchen. There was an empty bottle of wine on the work surface, with a second bottle next to it which Harry picked up. She looked around for a wine glass then shrugged and picked up a tumbler instead, emptying the contents of the second bottle into it. She handed the tumbler to Dempsey with a grin.

"Cheers," said Dempsey, enjoying the sight of Harry bustling clumsily around her kitchen, flushed and happy. He took a sip from the glass, his gaze stuck firmly on her as she opened a bag of peanuts into a bowl. Dempsey went to her to take the bowl and she smiled up at him, taking a peanut and holding it up in front of this face. Dempsey grinned and took the peanut into his mouth, his lips brushing her fingers, a wave of pleasure washing through him.

Dempsey's eyes roved across Harry's face, her eyes, her lips, and he found himself leaning closer towards her, breathing in her scent.

It took him a moment to realise the sound he heard was that of the kitchen door clicking open. He straightened up and turned his head to see Simmons coming towards them, waving an empty wineglass at Harry. "Where have you been?" he said to Harry, laughing. "Thirsty out there. Oh, hi Dempsey. What brings you here?"

Dempsey stared at Simmons for a moment, then gave his head a small shake to clear it. "Oh, um, a work thing," he said. Turning to Harry he said, "Didn't realise you had company. It can wait til tomorrow."

"No," said Harry, "stay. We finished talking about work but we can start again, since it's you." She offered him another peanut but he gently pushed her hand back down.

"Not tonight, Princess."

She pouted up at him, a small frown between her brows. "Well, at least finish your drink."

"Yes!" said Simmons. "I'm sure we can find another bottle from somewhere." He began opening the cabinets, looking for a bottle, looking very at home.

Dempsey swallowed away the tightness that was twisting around in his gut. He gulped down the rest of his wine and set the glass on the counter. "Gotta go, Angel."

As he turned to leave he felt Harry's hand on his arm. "Please stay, Dempsey," she said, "we've hardly seen you these last few days." Her eyes were warm on his and the feel of her hand on his arm was heavy. He felt himself falling, then heard Simmons clearing his throat quietly. He pulled his arm free.

"Night then," he said. "Catch up tomorrow." And with a vague wave that encompassed both Harry and Simmons he left.

Dempsey drove fast back to his flat, fiddling with the radio dial until he found some loud music that would distract him from his thoughts. As he let himself into his place he saw the laundry still waiting to be put in the wardrobe, the washing up still on the draining board, the fridge that contained nothing but beer and milk, and he wasn't confident about the milk. He felt restless, angry, and thought about calling one of the girls he knew, someone who might be able to make him feel better. He mentally ran through his address book but it was no use, there wasn't anyone else he wanted to see right now.

He took a beer from the fridge then went through his flat putting things into place, so that by the time he got into bed he felt that he'd achieved some sort of order. He rolled onto his side, looking at the empty space next to him. Closed his eyes to stop himself picturing Harry's bed. Didn't think about whether or not she also had an empty space tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**~ Chapter 3 ~**

Dempsey didn't sleep well and got out of bed early. With nothing else to occupy him he decided to get a head start at the office and drove in. When he got there the place was empty. Almost empty. Harry was sitting at her desk, bent over some files, a pen tapping absently against her lips. Dempsey paused for a moment then pushed on through the doors, forcing a cheery smile onto his lips.

"Morning, Sergeant," he said. "How's things?"

Harry smiled weakly at him and he saw that she looked a little green around the gills. He was surprised to see her in so early given how she'd been the night before.

"I've felt better," she said, "but another coffee and some toast should sort me out."

"Can't help with the toast," he said, but he fetched her a fresh cup of coffee which she accepted gratefully.

"What brings you in before breakfast?" he asked.

"I left my car here last night, Julian drove us home. Then he needed to head off early this morning to an appointment before work, so he dropped me here on his way."

Dempsey absorbed that information in silence. Simmons had stayed over at Harry's. It felt as though a knife was slicing through him. He took a deep breath then asked as casually as he could manage, "So, it's serious with Simmons then is it?"

He glanced quickly at Harry, who still looked a somewhat under the weather. "What do you mean?" she said distractedly, holding a hand to her head.

"You've been spending a lot of time together. You seem to get on well. Got a lot in common." Harry was massaging her forehead, eyes closed. She looked rather pale.

"Yes, I suppose so," she said.

She supposed so, thought Dempsey. What the hell did that mean? He was wondering whether to try again when she looked at him and gave a small laugh.

"I get it!" she said. "You're jealous!"

Dempsey winced inside and ran a thumb over his mouth. "Not at all," he said. "Just looking out for my partner."

"It's fine, Dempsey. Julian will only be with us at work until this operation's done. Then things will be back to normal here."

"Right."

"Now, what would be really helpful is if you could find me some Aspirin and a glass of water."

"Sure." Dempsey rooted around in his desk for the pills and poured a glass of water, leaving both on her desk. He sat back in his own chair and picked up some paperwork but couldn't concentrate on it. He knew Harry was right that Simmons would be out of their hair in a professional sense soon enough. The thing was, that wasn't what was bothering him. In fact, once the operation was over and Simmons was no longer attached to SI-10, there would be nothing to stop he and Harry from making a serious go of things. It was the thought of that which was keeping Dempsey awake at night and miserable during the day. He sighed. He should be grateful that she hadn't spotted the real reason behind his questions. If she guessed what he really felt that could spell the end of their friendship, maybe even their partnership, and that would be unthinkable.

But he still worried about her, and didn't want her to get hurt. So when Harry left the squad room for a moment, Dempsey picked up the phone and asked to be connected to SI-7. He spoke to a contact of his, a DC called Drake, who said he would ask around and get back to him. Dempsey said thanks and disconnected the call.

After a couple of hours the rest of the team started drifting in and Dempsey allowed the distraction of work to overtake his other more uncomfortable thoughts. Simmons pitched up at about 10.30, sending a warm smile to Harry and an equally welcoming grin to Dempsey. "Morning, partners," he said, then turned to Dempsey. "Sorry you couldn't stay last night, it was a fun evening."

Dempsey turned up a corner of his mouth in a semblance of a smile. "Maybe next time."

"Sure," said Simmons, "that would be great, wouldn't it Harry?"

Harry was looking perkier than she had before and nodded happily. "Dempsey," she said, "you haven't told me what it was you came over about last night."

Dempsey lifted his feet from his desk and briefed Harry and Simmons on the intelligence he'd picked up from his informant on the location of the warehouse. The deal was due to take place tomorrow evening so there wasn't much time. They decided to head over to the warehouse to make preparations for the sting. "We'll take my car," said Harry as they were leaving. Dempsey stopped to pick up his jacket and followed them out.

When Dempsey got to the car he automatically reached for the passenger door handle only to see Simmons already in the seat. Dempsey froze for a moment, his hand on the handle, fighting down the urge to tell Simmons to shift. He caught sight of Harry staring at him, mouthing "not much longer," and he silently climbed into the back.

Harry pulled away towards the warehouse, which was located on the other side of central London. Dempsey sat quietly as Harry and Simmons chatted about the job. The dumb thing was, if it wasn't for the Harry thing, Dempsey could quite like Simmons. He worked hard and had a nose for investigations. He didn't try to steal the limelight or take credit for other people's work. Dempsey looked again at the slip of paper he'd been handed as he left SI-10 – a message from DC Drake reading, "Loyal, competent, looking forward to having him back". But the Harry thing wouldn't go away.

They weren't far from the warehouse when Harry suddenly pulled over. "That's Kelly!" she said, pointing at a young woman who was walking down the opposite pavement. "She's one of my contacts, I've been trying to catch up with her for ages." She got out of the car, saying, "Let me know how it goes at the warehouse. I'll get a cab back, see you in the office." And she dashed across the road to catch up with Kelly.

Simmons went to undo his seatbelt but Dempsey was out of the car and in the driving seat before Simmons could move. Dempsey turned the key and set off towards the warehouse. The silence fell awkwardly between them in Harry's absence.

"So," said Simmons, as Dempsey pulled up in an area of wasteland near the warehouse. "This is the place."

They walked around the outside of the building, which looked delipidated and shabby. "Doesn't look like anyone's been here in a while," said Dempsey. He wondered whether his snitch had given him duff info.

"Yes but look," said Simmons, pointing towards the rear loading doors. "See that lock?"

Dempsey looked closer and could see that a heavy-duty padlock had been used to secure the doors. The lock was shiny and seemed new. "I guess if you're storing a bunch of priceless Russian art in his warehouse you'd want to make it difficult for anyone to get in," he said.

Simmons was taking detailed notes of the access to the warehouse and its dimensions which he said he'd hand over to Uniform so they could plan the support operation. He and Dempsey peered through the grimy windows to try to get a sense of how the warehouse was laid out inside but it was too dark to make out much detail. Dempsey squinted and could tell through the gloom that several large packing crates had been stacked at the far end. He was reassured to know that they'd found the right place.

They finished looking around, discussing how they thought the sting would play out the following evening. Simmons said, "Fedorov will expect me to do most of the talking. He'll think Harry's just some dumb blonde and you're just some dumb muscle."

Dempsey didn't like it but Simmons was right and he nodded. "Harry knows how to take care of herself," he said to Simmons. "She's a better shot than most of the guys and knows how to throw a punch, if you can believe it. But…"

There was a pause as Simmons looked questioningly at Dempsey. Then a realisation seemed to fall across his face. "Don't worry," he said. "I know you're used to partnering her, but the three of us can back each other up if needs be. Nothing bad will happen, you have my word."

Dempsey said nothing. He wanted to make sure Simmons understood how important it was to keep Harry safe but at the same time didn't want to give away too much of what he was feeling. He settled for a frown and a nod.

They walked back to the car, Simmons going straight for the passenger seat, and Dempsey began the drive back to SI-10. Simmons said, "What brings you to London then, Dempsey? Not the weather, I assume."

Dempsey tightened his lips. He guessed that Simmons was just trying to make small talk but he could hardly have picked a more difficult topic. He said, "Work."

"Some sort of transfer, was it? Exchange programme?"

"Something like that."

Dempsey felt Simmons' eyes on him but he kept staring straight at the road ahead. Simmons was a good cop and apparently a decent bloke. Dempsey was trying hard to be glad for Harry that she'd found someone worthy of her after the jerk of the ex-husband, but it wasn't coming easy. He felt sick when he thought of Harry's hands on Simmons, her lips against him. The waves tension must have been apparent to Simmons, who said, "Is something wrong?"

Dempsey shook his head, clamping down hard on his feelings. "Nah."

Simmons looked closely at Dempsey's profile, a small smile reaching his lips. He said, "You know, Harry's a great partner. You're lucky to work with her." Dempsey said nothing, so Simmons continued, "A lot of people would just dismiss her as decoration, but I can tell you really value her. You know, professionally."

"Professionally," said Dempsey. "Sure."

"And of course she's terrific fun to be around, as well." Dempsey gripped the steering wheel tighter and said nothing. "I'll be sorry when we're not working together any more," continued Simmons, "but she's the sort of person you want to stay close to, isn't she?"

"She's my partner," said Dempsey. "That's all."

"And partners look out for each other, right?"

"Right."

Simmons paused for a beat then said, "You know, Harry is perfectly safe with me."

Dempsey said, "I don't really want to talk about Harry."

"I don't suppose you do," said Simmons softly.

Dempsey drove the rest of the way in silence while Simmons calmly organised his notes on the warehouse. It wasn't long after they got back that Harry joined them and they gave her a run-down on what they'd found. Simmons went off to liaise with Uniform on the back-up plans and Dempsey updated Spikings.

By the time he'd finished it was time to head home. Without thinking, he asked Harry if she fancied a drink. She sent him an apologetic glance and said, "Not tonight, Dempsey. Still getting over yesterday."

"Sure," he said, shuffling his papers together. Maybe she did want an early night. Or maybe she and Simmons had already made plans. Whatever, he was out of there for the evening. He snatched up his jacket and drove home.

Back in his flat, Dempsey looked in his fridge and found only beer and gone-off milk. He picked up the phone to his regular Chinese takeaway, where Min, the guy who took the orders, recognised his voice. "Your usual?" Min asked him. "Prawn sweet and sour, spare ribs, crispy chili beef, oyster mushrooms, double rice?"

The prawns and the mushrooms were Harry's. He said, "Just the ribs, the beef and rice for one, thanks Min."

Dempsey replaced the receiver with a sigh. Over the last few months he'd grown used to Harry being around. Not just at work but in the evenings too, at her place or his. He flicked on the TV and flopped down on the sofa but the show wasn't grabbing his attention.

His mind wandered back to the last time Harry had been there, just a week or so ago, before Simmons and the Fedorov case. She'd come over to discuss the fraud arrest they were about to make, but after about ten minutes they'd moved on to other things. They'd talked about her favourite holiday destination, and whether it was better to be an only child like Harry or part of large group of siblings like Dempsey, and why anyone would ever want to live north of the river. She'd been curled up on the sofa and he'd been on the floor beneath her, his head resting against her leg, her hand sometimes pressing on his shoulder as she emphasised her point. Once or twice he'd felt her fingers twining through his hair and he'd been glad she hadn't been able to see the way he'd closed his eyes at her touch.

Dempsey remembered that she hadn't drunk much because she was driving home, and he hadn't drunk much because he hadn't needed to, he'd been happy just sharing the Chinese food and shooting the breeze.

When she'd smothered her second yawn he'd offered to drive her back, hoping to prolong the evening just a little more, saying he'd pick her up again in the morning so she could collect her car. To his disappointment she'd insisted she'd be fine. He'd walked her to the door and had almost asked her to stay, but he'd been scared and tongue-tied and the moment had gone.

And now he thought it was unlikely the moment would ever return. Harry and Simmons seemed to fit together somehow. They looked right together, with the same good manners and the same high class background and the same interests and outlook on life. Simmons was charming and suave in a way he could never be, and topped it off by being so goddamn decent and likeable.

Dempsey closed his eyes and puffed out his cheeks. He'd been crazy to think he'd ever had a chance with her. He was going to have to adjust to this altered relationship otherwise there was a danger he could lose her from his life completely.


	4. Chapter 4

**~ Chapter 4 ~**

Next morning, Dempsey arrived at SI-10 early once more. He was first to arrive and so dropped his jacket on his chair and headed out to the canteen in search of a bacon roll.

On his way back, he turned a corner in the corridor and saw Harry and Simmons go into the squad room together, his hand at her back. They were both still in their coats. Had Simmons stayed over again?

Dempsey walked slowly towards the squad room and lingered at the door. Simmons and Harry seemed to be the only people there. Dempsey heard Simmons say, "You know, it would be fine by me if we just told him. I prefer to be honest about this sort of thing, it makes me uncomfortable to keep secrets from your partner. And I genuinely don't think he'd mind."

Harry replied, "I think you're right, I don't think he'd care at all. But perhaps we should wait until the operation's finished tonight. Then if there is a problem, it won't affect the job."

"Well, if you're sure –"

Dempsey had heard enough. He crashed through the door, plastering a smile on his face and offering a cheery greeting. Harry and Simmons jumped apart, a guilty expression on Harry's face that twisted Dempsey's insides. He'd spent a long time denying what had happened to him but the sight of Harry with someone else meant he had no choice but to face the truth. He wanted her for himself, and as long as she'd been single he'd been able to kid himself that one day she might be his. But now he realised it had been nothing but a hopeless fantasy as he felt the hope inside him turn to ash. He dropped into his chair and pulled a file towards him. "OK," he said, forcing his voice into its normal tones. "Let's get down to business."

~ o ~

Simmons, Dempsey and Harry spent the rest of the day planning that evening's operation. Simmons and Harry would travel to the warehouse together to inspect the artwork, with Dempsey posing as their minder. As soon as the cash was handed over, the team would break cover and make the arrests.

Around mid-afternoon, Simmons received a call from Lefevre confirming that the deal was on and that they needed to be at the warehouse by six. Spikings gave the order to his team and liaised with his counterpart in Uniform. The back-up officers would be in place before Harry, Simmons and Dempsey arrived.

Dempsey took one of the SI-10 cars and drove them across to the warehouse. Simmons and Harry sat in the back, maintaining their cover of being a couple with a minder. They reached the site around 20 minutes early and waited until they saw a dark van with blacked-out windows pulling up on the other side of the warehouse. "OK," murmured Dempsey. "Let's go."

Dempsey got out of the car and went to open the door for Harry and Simmons. He followed them as they walked across to the warehouse, meeting Lefevre and Fedorov at the rear door. Lefevre made the introductions, including Fedorov's own minder, Vasiliev, who was dealing with the padlock. Fedorov then led them inside, switching on lights as they went.

Dempsey trailed at the rear, his eyes flicking from side to side to check that the back-up team were in place. They reached the packing crates and Fedorov turned to Vasiliev, telling him to open them up. Vasiliev picked up a crowbar and began levering open the lids, leaving Lefevre to remove the contents.

Moving himself a respectful distance from the crates, Dempsey watched as Simmons and Harry started examining the artwork. He could hear them murmuring words of appreciation for the paintings and sculptures and had to admit they sounded more authentic than he'd have been able to manage. Sweeping his eyes around the warehouse he spotted the hideouts where Chas and Watson should be waiting.

After a few minutes, Simmons took Fedorov aside slightly and asked about prices for the pieces. They haggled a little but eventually Simmons signalled to Dempsey to come over with the cash. Dempsey picked up the small case containing the bundles of notes and joined Simmons and Fedorov. Simmons murmured a figure to Dempsey, who opened the case and handed over several bundles to Fedorov.

Fedorov called Vasiliev over to take the cash from him, leaving Harry and Lefevre near the crates. Harry called, "Don't move! You're under arrest!"

After that, the action was a blur. Vasiliev dropped the cash and reached for the crowbar, but Harry got there first and slammed it across the back of Vasiliev's neck, leaving him gasping on the floor. Simmons drew his gun and pointed it at Lefevre. Dempsey was reaching for his own gun when felt the cold metal of Fedorov's revolver at his temple. "Don't shoot!" called Harry.

"Drop your weapon," said Fedorov.

Simmons said, "Don't do this. Murder is a much longer sentence than smuggling."

"Drop your weapon. Or your guy here gets it." He shoved the gun barrel harder against Dempsey's temple, making Dempsey grimace. Harry finished putting handcuffs on Vasiliev and kept a tight grip on the crowbar.

Lefevre put his hands in the air and laughed nervously. "Come on now," he said. "No one wants this."

"Shut up," said Fedorov, his grip on Dempsey tightening. He turned to Simmons and said again, "Drop the gun." His finger squeezed harder on the trigger.

Harry threw the crowbar to the corner of the warehouse, where it landed with a clang. Fedorov turned his head towards the noise, allowing Harry to draw her gun from its ankle holster and point it at Fedorov. "If you shoot him," she said calmly, "I'll shoot you."

Fedorov raised an eyebrow. "That's a chance I'll have to take." Simmons told Lefevre to lie on the floor with his hands on his head. Lefevre seemed only too happy to comply. Fedorov now found two guns pointing his direction.

Dempsey stared at Harry, who's attention was focussed fully on Fedorov. The lump of metal against his temple was scaring Dempsey but he needed to keep himself together, couldn't let Harry watch him die. He knew that the backup team couldn't break cover now that weapons had been drawn. He allowed himself another moment to stare at Harry's face before planning his next move.

Simmons said, "This is your final warning. Drop your weapon."

But Fedorov just laughed and cocked the revolver. Dempsey caught Harry's eye and passed a silent message to her. They'd worked this move before; he just hoped she'd remember. Shouting "Now", he bent over, pulling his head away from Fedorov's grasp. He heard the sound of a gunshot and felt Fedorov dropping to the floor behind him. Standing upright, Dempsey was relieved to see Harry standing with her feet apart and her arms outstretched, smoke curling from the tip of her gun. Simmons was putting handcuffs on Lefevre as Chas, Watson and the Uniform team ran out from their positions. Chas raced to Fedorov and checked for a pulse, but looked up at Dempsey and shook his head.

Uniform bundled Lefevre and Vasiliev into the back of squad cars and drove them off to the station. An ambulance crew carried Fedorov's body back for forensic examination. Spikings approached his officers with some trepidation; the operation had concluded successfully but it was always easier when there weren't any dead bodies lying around, making the place look untidy.

Dempsey looked over at his boss and began his debrief, but in the corner of his eye he could see Simmons whispering something to Harry. She gave him a small smile and he put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Forcing his attention back to Spikings, Dempsey finished his report and walked over to Harry and Simmons.

They looked at one another, relieved that they'd all made it through safely. Harry looked a little anxious, but Dempsey knew that she never found it easy to use her gun, that she would be reliving the shooting of Fedorov for some time yet. He sent her a small smile. "Good shot, partner."

"Thanks," said Harry quietly.

Simmons rubbed the small of her back. "You didn't have any choice," he said. "We gave him plenty of chances to stand down."

"I know," said Harry. "But still…" Then she pushed back her shoulders and straightened her spine. She looked at Dempsey and said, "It was you or him, and I'm very happy it was him."

Dempsey smiled, then turned to Simmons and nodded. He needed to take the high ground here. "Good job," he said. "Been great to work with you."

"You too," said Simmons, reaching out to shake Dempsey's hand. "I'll miss you lot. Just got to sign off the paperwork then I'll be back at SI-7."

Harry turned to Simmons and put a hand on his arm. "But we'll stay in touch, won't we?" she said, and smiled as he nodded his head.

"Right," said Dempsey, "I've done my debrief so I'm gonna head home. One of the Uniform guys'll take me."

Harry wrinkled her nose at him. "Aren't you going to join the team drinks?"

The team always had drinks after a successful arrest and Dempsey usually led the charge. On this occasion, though, he'd rather be washing his hair than watching Harry and Simmons cosying up together on some bench in a pub. He lit a cigar and said, "Can't tonight, sorry. Plans." He caught the eye of a uniformed officer who was just getting into a squad car and shouted over to him to wait. "See you in the morning," he said to Simmons and Harry, then ran over to the squad car and asked for a lift.

Dempsey sat in the passenger seat, watching through the window as the sun slowly began to set over the city. He wasn't ready to go home yet. He asked the PC to drop him off as they passed near the West End and he walked towards a little Italian place he knew in Soho.

The restaurant was tucked away in the basement of a bar. He went down the stairs and through the door, picking up a menu on his way to a table. He'd come here a few times with Harry. It wasn't the sort of fancy food he thought she must be used to but it was tasty and filling and she'd seemed to enjoy it.

As he sat looking at the menu, a short, middle-aged woman came over to him and said, "Mr Dempsey! So happy to see you again!"

"Happy to be here, Mrs Romano." She was one of the reasons he liked this restaurant so much. She and her husband ran the place like the neighbourhood restaurants of his youth and her warm affection reminded him of his mother back in the States.

She studied him carefully. "You look you don't look happy, Mr Dempsey. That's why you're here? The food to make you happy?"

Dempsey closed his menu. "I'll take the spaghetti vongole and a green salad. And a carafe of rioja as well, please, Mrs Romano."

She took the menu from him. "You're alone tonight," she said. "No beautiful lady with you."

Dempsey said, "The beautiful lady is with someone else."

"Ah," said Mrs Romano, and she patted his arm, "I see. Vongole, salad, rioja. On its way."

Dempsey finished his meal, the food providing some comfort in the face of his inner turmoil. The dusk was gathering but the evening was mild and the street lighting meant he could see clearly enough. He decided to walk home and set off through the maze of Soho streets in the direction of his flat.

He was pondering the best route when he noticed a familiar figure walking across the street some way ahead of him. He raised his hand in automatic greeting, wondering why Simmons was in Soho and not out with the team, when he saw him approaching a slim figure leaning near the doorway of a bar called Louise's. He couldn't make out who it was but it was definitely not Harry. Dempsey lowered his hand and watched as Simmons put his arm around the stranger then leaned down for a slow kiss. Dempsey stared as they walked together, arms around each other, into the bar.

/

 **There was a bit too much bungling around in the warehouse for my liking, but I'm afraid it had to be done. Don't worry though, the final part of this story is almost ready and will be up very soon. Hope you're still enjoying the fic, please let me know what you think.**


	5. Chapter 5

**~ Chapter 5 ~**

Dempsey thought again about what he'd just seen. The shock was wearing off leaving anger in its place. He thought, if he's hurt her, I'll kill him.

He hailed a cab and gave the driver Harry's address. The journey was quick and he was soon paying the cabbie and knocking on Harry's door. "Dempsey," she said, her eyebrows raised. "Thought you had plans."

"Can I come in?"

She opened the door wider and then led him through to the sitting room, where a single glass of wine and a plate of cheese and biscuits sat on a side table. "Can I get you anything?"

"No thanks, I already ate."

He sat down on her sofa but when she sat next to him he stood up again and turned to face her. He ran his hands through his hair. "What do you want, Dempsey?" she asked.

"Look," he said. "I know you'll tell me it's none of my business, but you're my partner. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Dempsey, what on earth's the matter?"

Dempsey looked at Harry, her beautiful face wrinkled in concern, and he sat back down alongside her, taking her hand in his. "I was out this evening," he said.

"I know," said Harry, with an undercurrent her couldn't figure out. "Plans."

"I had dinner in that little Italian place we sometimes go to in Soho. You know the one. Mrs Ramona."

"I'm not sure why you think I'm interested in who you go out to dinner with."

"What? No, I was on my own. But that doesn't matter. I was leaving and I saw your guy – saw Simmons – and he was with someone else." Dempsey held Harry's hand carefully in his, watching her closely.

Harry's brows drew together. "You saw Julian out with someone else? That's what you came here to tell me?"

Dempsey said, "I know it's difficult, but yeah. They had their arms around each other. They… Well, they kissed. I'm really sorry." He curled his hand around hers and said softly, "I wasn't sure whether I should tell you, but I guess it wasn't something I could keep a secret. I'm sorry," he said again.

"But Dempsey," said Harry, her head tilted to one side. "Why are you sorry?"

Dempsey ploughed on. "I know it must be upsetting, but it's better to find out now."

"Wait a minute," said Harry. "Do you think there's something going on between Julian and me?"

Dempsey squeezed Harry's hand. "At least he won't be working with us anymore, hey partner? Back to SI-7 where he belongs."

"I mean, it would hardly be your business if there was, but there isn't."

"And no one else in the team needs to know, we can keep it quiet from the rest of the guys. Tell them you just kinda drifted apart after he went back."

Harry rolled her eyes. "You're not listening to me."

"What did you say?"

"Look, Dempsey. I don't know what you think's been happening, but what Julian does in his own time is his own business."

Dempsey blinked. "Hang on. Are you saying that you and he… there's nothing going on? You're not together?"

"And, honestly, what I do in my own time is my own business too. But for the record, and since it seems to bother you so much, no, Julian and I are not together."

Dempsey's blood started pumping faster round his body. He looked at her again and saw cool amusement in her eyes. "Right," he said. His face wanted to break into a grin but he forced the urge away, pulling his hand from hers and wiping it across his mouth. "Well, that's fine. Good."

Harry let out a small burst of laughter. "You thought there was something going on with me and Julian? That's priceless."

Dempsey was keen to cover his confusion. "I'm sorry," he said, "I guess I just got hold of the wrong end of the stick. Look, I'll see you tomorrow, OK?" He stood and looked around for where he'd flung his jacket.

Harry stood and put her hand on his arm. "Why, though?" she said. "Why did you jump to the wrong conclusion?"

Dempsey puffed out his cheeks. He said, "Nothing, really. I mean, you both got on well. Both from that English high old class. And he was here the other night." Dempsey clamped his mouth shut, worried he'd already given away too much.

Harry gave an exasperated laugh. "For God's sake, Dempsey," she said. "You're here so often you should pay half my bills. Why would you be surprised that Julian was here when we had a case on?"

Dempsey looked down. He spent time at Harry's because he liked spending time with Harry, nothing to do with work. He'd just assumed that Simmons felt the same. He said, "You were talking this morning. You were talking about telling me something, about not keeping a secret from me."

Harry took a deep breath. "Sit down, Dempsey," she said, and they both settled back a little awkwardly on the sofa. She paused for a moment, then said, "Which bar did you say you saw Julian and his friend going into?"

"Louise's on Old Compton Street."

Harry raised her eyebrows but he just looked at her blankly. She said, "And you call yourself a detective?"

It took a moment then Dempsey closed his eyes and took in a breath. "You're kidding me."

"Nope."

"It's a gay bar."

"Yep."

"Why was Simmons going into a gay bar?"

"Do I have to take your special detecting badge away?"

"Seriously? Simmons is qu-" He caught a look from Harry. "Simmons is gay?"

"Give the man a cigar. I'm sorry Dempsey, you've obviously been getting worked up about something, but it wasn't my secret to tell." Harry looked at him closely. "Julian thought you'd be fine about it though. You are fine, aren't you?"

Dempsey could not care less who Julian was squeezing as long as it wasn't Harry. He shrugged and said, "So I guess you're not his type?"

"Not even slightly."

"Right."

"Right." Harry turned towards him, looking at him curiously. She said, "So that's what all this has been about, is it? Your refusal to come out for a drink, your bad temper in the office? Going off on your own to track down leads? Because you thought I was with Julian?"

"What?" said Dempsey, worried now, pushing his hand through his hair. "No, I was just bothered that he was going to hurt you, is all. If he was messing around with someone else."

"And it would bother you, then, if I got hurt?"

"Sure it would," he said, staring at the rug. "We're partners, we got each other's back." He was barely convincing himself, couldn't imagine he was fooling her. He couldn't keep this up much longer and made to leave, but she put a hand on his arm and he couldn't move.

"You know," said Harry slowly, "Julian said something funny to me earlier today. He said he thought you'd got a thing for me." Harry turned soft, questioning eyes on him and he was desperate. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. She watched him for a moment then closed her eyes and gave a small nod of her head. When she opened her eyes she reached for the glass of wine on the side table and finished it in two long swallows. She put the glass back and turned back to Dempsey. She said, "I've always assumed you think I'm attractive. Physically, I mean."

Dempsey's mouth was dry and his heart was hammering in his chest. Harry seemed to be leaning closer. He couldn't speak.

"Do you?" she said. "Think I'm attractive?" She looked at him quizzically, as if she really thought he might deny it. His head was spinning, he couldn't figure out where she was going. He gave a tiny nod.

"I see," she said. "But I've never known whether there's anything more." She picked up his hand and wrapped her fingers around his. He looked down at where their hands were joined.

"I, um." He gave a slightly strangled laugh. "Having a bit of trouble following you here, partner."

"Are you?" She was closer still, and Dempsey could hear the blood roaring in his ears. Any other woman and this would be a come on, but it was Harry and he couldn't trust what his senses were telling him. He stared at her, saw her gaze clash briefly with his before dropping to his lips, and he felt the earth slipping beneath him. He wanted nothing more than to crash his lips against hers, ached to touch her, but he was confused and terrified he'd do something she'd regret.

Harry lifted a hand to his collar and trailed her fingers along his neck, resting just below his ear. Her lips curved into a smile and she said, "How do you feel about me, Dempsey?"

Dempsey's skin burned where she touched him and he caught her hand. "C'mon, Harry," he said, almost pleading. "You know how I feel."

"I don't though, Dempsey. I don't know whether you feel anything apart from this." She slipped her hand from his and curled her fingers around the back of his neck, through the soft waves of his hair, gently pulling him nearer to her.

Swallowing hard, Dempsey said, "You carry on like that and I won't be responsible."

"What if I don't want you to be responsible?"

Harry turned herself towards him and lifted her face upwards, pressing her lips against his. Dempsey's senses shattered, bursting around him in a blaze of white heat, but he held desperately onto his self-control and remained still beneath her touch. She wanted everything from him but hadn't given anything in return.

Harry pulled away, looking embarrassed. She said, "Oh God. I'm sorry. I thought this was something you wanted." She got to her feet and walked across to the window, pressing her hand to her forehead. Dempsey followed and stood behind her, lifting his hand towards her shoulder but dropping it before it made contact.

"It is something I want," he said quietly. "Very much. I just…"

She spun around to face him, her face hard. "I think you should leave."

"Jeez, Harry! I don't understand what you're doing!" His frustration made his voice sharp and he tried again. "I don't understand why you're doing it. If this is just a quick roll in the hay because Simmons didn't come up with the goods, I aint playing." Dempsey saw Harry's hand rise but he wasn't quick enough to duck and the slap left his cheek stinging.

"This has got nothing to do with Julian, you stupid, pig-headed man," Harry said angrily.

"Well, what does it have to do with, Princess, coz it's making no sense to me!" Dempsey found himself poking a finger in her shoulder, his face just inches from hers.

"I thought you were jealous!" she cried. "I thought it meant you wanted me, that you might actually care about me!" She batted his hand away with hers.

"I do care about you!" Dempsey yelled, moving closer again. "It's been killing me watching you with him!"

"Then why haven't you said anything?" Harry shouted back. She put her hands on his shoulders, pushing at him, but he leant in, staring down, unable to stop himself flinging out the truth.

"Because you don't care about me!"

For a moment there was silence. Dempsey stood over Harry, his breath coming fast and angry as he watched the emotions that flashed across her eyes. He was drowning. Harry muttered, "Stupid, stupid man," as she slid her hands from his shoulders to around his neck, dragging him closer, until his lips reached hers. This time there was no pulling back.

Dempsey wrapped his arms around Harry, urging her into him, deepening the kiss. He didn't care any more if she was playing games, he was undone by the feel of her, the taste of her lips, the warmth of her skin under his fingers. He slid his tongue into her mouth, losing himself in her sweetness, and groaned as she opened her mouth wider, encouraging his exploration. She was clinging to his shoulders as he bent over her, his arms holding her close, his arousal clear as her hips pressed into his.

"Dempsey," she gasped as his lips trailed from her mouth to her ear then down to her shoulder. She tasted like honey and he wanted all of her. He scooped an arm under her knees and carried her to the sofa, laying her carefully down on the cushions, easing himself alongside her so he could feel every curve and dip of her body. It amazed him how responsive she was to him, how her hands sought his skin beneath his shirt, and he helped her with the buttons, fumbling them free. Harry put her mouth to his chest and groaned. Murmuring her name, he eased her top over her head and dropped kisses across the curve of her breast, along the edge of her bra. She was so beautiful, her skin so smooth, and sounds of desire and longing fell from his lips.

Her fingers went to his belt and he sucked in a breath. He caught her hands, his eyes seeking hers. Her gaze on him was liquid, a deep blue he could swim in, and then she grazed her bottom lip with her teeth as a bubble of happy laughter escaped, as warm as sunshine. Dempsey grinned back, pulling her closer again, helping her as she loosened his buckle, pushing her skirt up to her hips.

He twisted them around so he was lying flat, Harry above him, her legs straddling him as his arms wrapped around her back. She curled her hands into his hair, holding him close, and kissed him greedily, her tongue swirling in and out of his mouth, her teeth nipping at his lips until he was dizzy with lust. He ran his hands down her back, gripping her hips, tilting her against him and she moaned his name.

"Harry, God, yes," he said, gliding kisses along the column of her neck, nipping at her throat. He was losing control, his need for her driving him on, and he slipped his hands beneath her underwear, watching as her eyes slid closed and she whispered for more.

He'd wanted this for so long, had dreamt about it, fantasised about it, but the reality was so much more than he'd imagined. She was hot and passionate in his arms, returning his every touch and caress, and they both knew there was only one way this would end. They wriggled out of their few remaining clothes then their eyes locked as she lowered herself onto him. The sense of completion that burned through him as they joined was almost as intense as the pleasure from feeling her tightness around him. He groaned as she rocked their hips together and he was afraid it would be over too soon. He reached down between them, his thumb brushing across her, and she arched her back, calling his name. It was more than he could bear and he followed her over the edge, his senses an explosion of light and stars and Harry.

They collapsed, exhausted, onto the sofa. Dempsey pulled Harry across his body, nestling her head under his chin, his arms around her. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest and see the sheen of sweat across her skin and he held her closer, pressing a kiss onto the crown of her head and the curve of her shoulder. Awkwardly, he reached for the blanket that had somehow stayed on the back of the sofa and stretched it out over them. He held Harry as she relaxed into his arms, listening as her breathing steadied and her limbs grew heavy. "That was quite something, hey partner?" he said softly, chuckling. She didn't reply and when Dempsey craned his neck to catch her eye he saw that she was sleeping. Smiling, Dempsey gathered her closer and allowed himself to fall asleep alongside her.

~ o ~

The sofa wasn't really built for sleeping on, at least not for two, and Dempsey found himself being prodded awake an hour or so later as Harry shifted in her sleep. He tried to get comfortable again but it was impossible. Gently he shook Harry's shoulder until she stirred and opened her eyes. Their gazes met in the dim light and he smiled at her, at how beautiful she looked, and she sent him a sleepy smile in return. "Bed?" she said.

"Thought you'd never ask."

She eased herself to standing, wrapping the blanket around her, and he followed. They made their way to her bedroom where they slipped silently into her bed, their arms reaching automatically for each other, and they made love again, slower this time but somehow more intense. As he was on the verge of sleep for the second time, he heard her sighing his name. He turned his head towards her, his eyebrows raised in question, but she just shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder. He draped an arm over her and said, "S'okay, Harry. I know."

~ o ~

They called in sick on Friday, claiming to have gone together to the same Chinese restaurant and eaten the same dodgy prawn toast. She hadn't wanted to at first, but he found a very effective way of persuading her. If Spikings had been suspicious, it was more that they were nursing matching hangovers than sharing a shower before breakfast.

Later, Dempsey made the coffee while Harry buttered toast. It felt natural to Dempsey to be sharing the kitchen with Harry. There was none of the awkwardness that could sometimes come with the morning after the night before, and each time they caught each other's gaze they grinned like lottery winners.

They sat eating their breakfast at the small table in the kitchen. Dempsey was still processing what Harry had told him last night. He said, "So when did Simmons tell you he batted for the other team?"

Harry thought for a moment. "He never did, not as such. It was just something I sort of always knew."

"But you were always flirting with him."

"He's easy to flirt with, Dempsey. We both knew it wouldn't lead to anything, no one would misunderstand or get hurt."

"So it was never real, then? For you?"

Harry gave a wry smile. "He's a lovely chap, Dempsey, and I enjoyed spending time with him. But no, I never wanted him that way."

A smug grin worked its was across Dempsey's features. "Not the way you want me."

"Don't push it."

"Not what you were saying earlier." Dempsey took a sip from his coffee, then said quietly, "Thought I'd blown it, you know. Hated watching the two of you together. You seemed to gel so easy."

Harry shrugged. "Being with him was easy."

Dempsey frowned. "Hmm."

She aimed a gentle kick at his ankle. "Not like that, you idiot. With you was always more… dangerous." He raised his eyebrows at her. "You know. Flirting with you was a minefield. I worried that it would encourage you to make a pass at me, a proper one, and that I wouldn't have the strength to turn you down."

Dempsey stared at her. "Wish I'd known."

"I'm amazed you didn't. You never seemed to lack confidence on that front."

"Different with you, though, Harry. If I _had_ made that pass, and you _had_ turned me down…" He lifted his shoulders. "Would've been hard to come back from that."

Harry sent him a sly smile. "Good job I took things into my own hands then."

"I like it when you take things into your own hands, Harry."

The look he gave her was filthy and she grinned back, before putting her toast aside and walking around to him. She gave him a nudge and he turned his chair a little so she could get closer. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, she took a seat on his lap, facing him, her thighs pressing into his hips. She rested her forehead against his and said, "What do you want me to take into my own hands now, Lieutenant?"

Dempsey growled and threw his toast in the general direction of the table. He pushed them both up to standing then hoiked her into a fireman's lift over his shoulder, laughing as she shrieked. He carried her to the bedroom and dropped her onto the bed, the proceeded to show her exactly what he wanted in her hands, as well as when he wanted in his own.

 **~ THE END ~**

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 **Hope you've enjoyed this, I really liked writing it. All feedback welcome :)**


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